


I Wish You Would

by powerwisdomandcourage



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bottom John, Coming Untouched, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Happy Ending, Johnlock Roulette, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prostate Massage, Relationship Problems, Top Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-09 22:49:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3267281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/powerwisdomandcourage/pseuds/powerwisdomandcourage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock thinks John works too much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Wish You Would

**Author's Note:**

  * For [effystonem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/effystonem/gifts).



> For effystonem who is my amazing friend and dedicated beta reader

It had just started raining when John left the surgery, and the rain was hitting the pavement rhythmically as he quickened his pace. He ducked under awnings as he raced to the nearest tube station at Westminster, hunching his jacket over his shoulders to protect himself from the rainfall. After a long day, he wanted nothing more than to be back at Baker Street, perhaps in front of the fire with a cup of tea in his hands.

Or, more likely, John thought, dealing with a stroppy detective who will be expecting dinner and probably hasn’t eaten all day. At least it’s Friday. The fifty hour week had really taken a toll on him. As he got onto the tube he made the decision to stop for takeaway to avoid an argument later on who will do the cooking. 

* * *

Twenty minutes later, the rain shower had subsided and John was entering 221B Baker Street, still slightly damp and carrying containers from Jade Garden under his arm.

“Sherlock?” he called up, taking the stairs slowly in his exhaustion.

“Hm?” he heard a noncommittal noise from the sitting room. When he reached the landing he saw Sherlock lying on the sofa with his hands clasped under his chin, in his classic ‘thinking’ pose.

John set the takeaway down in the kitchen and crossed the sitting room to where the detective lay. Sitting down on the edge of the cushion, John turned to the taller man, who had opened his eyes and was looking up at him. 

“How was your day, love?” John asked, pulling Sherlock up for a kiss. Their lips met briefly as the detective moved to sit up. John stood and ruffled Sherlock’s hair on his way back to the kitchen. “I brought us Chinese.”

The detective started to clear off their kitchen table, which was cluttered from days of an experiment on the tensile strengths of various natural fibres. 

“My day was fine...boring. I wish you’d spend less time at work.”

“You know I’d like that,” John set the meals down onto the table. “but we’ve got to bills to pay, love. You’re not exactly bringing in any money right now.”

Sherlock shot him a glance. It was true that there had been no new cases over the past few days, and the detective had a lot of pent up energy after lazing about the flat all week. As they started eating in silence, Sherlock thought about how long it had been since the two had made love. John’s busy work schedule had left him exhausted every night this week, and today seemed no different.

“You should take a little bit of time off next week anyway. It couldn’t hurt.” he looked shyly away. “I’ve missed you.”

They were almost a year into their relationship and things had slowed down a lot lately. They hadn’t had much time to themselves and they weren’t getting along as well as Sherlock would like. The stress and long hours of John’s job had been distancing them for weeks.

John’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry, love. I know it’s been hard lately. I’ve missed you, too.” He stood to collect their finished dinner plates and turned his back to Sherlock as he turned to the kitchen. 

* * *

Lying in bed that night, Sherlock was restless as he stared at the ceiling. The lights were off but the room was still dimly lit by the ever present city life outside their window. Turning his head, Sherlock stared at John’s back, covered by a thin, worn-out army shirt. They were both awake, but had lapsed into an uncomfortable silence quite a while ago. 

“John,” Sherlock turned fully to face him, and hesitantly ran a hand up his back, under his shirt, feeling the doctor’s warm skin and the hard muscle underneath. “I know you’re awake.”

“What’s wrong, Sherlock?” the shorter man’s voice was hoarse. He had been just on the edge of sleep. He turned to face the detective and reached to wrap an arm around him as they came face to face.

“I love you, John. You know that, right?” he leaned in for a chaste kiss, pushing his knee in between the doctor’s, intertwining them further.

“Of course. I love you, too.”

“I want to fuck you tonight. It’s been too long. I want to show you how much I love you.” he brought his hand to the shorter man’s face, and their lips met again. The tension between them melted away as John groaned his approval, rolling onto his back and pulling the detective on top of him.

“I’ve missed this so much, Sherlock,” John tangled a hand into dark curls, and his other hand crept up the back of Sherlock’s navy t-shirt. “I’ll take Monday and Tuesday off work, love. I’ll cut back on my hours.”

“Hmm..” Sherlock moved down the doctor’s body, sitting up to discard his own tee shirt and leaning back down to lick at John’s neck. “I’d like that, John.”

“Nnngyeah...love...” John’s hands stroked Sherlock’s lean, pale back as Sherlock found his pulse point with his mouth. Sherlock drew himself away and sat back on his heels as he pulled John forward to lift off his shirt.

“Lift your hips up.” The detective grabbed John’s waistband and pulled his pyjama bottoms and pants off over his half-hard cock and down his thighs to his ankles, pushing the covers off. John kicked his bottoms off of his ankles and onto the floor.

Sherlock quickly discarded his own bottoms and straddled John’s hips as their lips met again, the doctor’s tongue pressing for entrance. All of their earlier frustration was gone as they clung to each other, their lips moving slowly against one another’s. Sherlock could feel John’s now fully-erect cock brushing against his upper thigh. John let out small groans at each small thrust of his own hips. Sherlock’s own cock lay hard and heavy on John’s stomach, leaking precum onto him that was smeared with each thrust.

“Oh God yes...” John let out as Sherlock trailed his lips again down to the shorter man’s neck, reaching over to the bedside table for their half-empty bottle of lubricant. He set it aside as his mouth continued down over John’s pectorals and through the soft blond hair on his navel, stopping once he was within inches of the doctor’s considerable length, curved and uncut, with the foreskin fully retracted.

“Sherlock...oh, fuck...oh, please...” John whined as the detective wrapped one large hand around the base of his cock, where it was jutting out of a thatch of dark blond hair, and pressed a wet kiss to the shaft. He licked up to the head, and took it into his mouth, with John whimpering above him. 

John fisted the sheets with one hand and grabbed a handful of Sherlock’s hair with the other, pulling slightly, the way the detective liked. Below him, Sherlock had taken just over half of John’s cock into his mouth, massaging the underside of the head with his tongue and teasing his foreskin, using his hand to stroke the shaft where his mouth couldn’t reach. He bobbed his head up and down a few times before feeling the hand in his hair tug insistently.

“Fuck, stop, unf...gonna come...” Sherlock pulled off at John’s warning, but kept stroking him lightly. He moved his hand to his own neglected cock and gripped it tightly, to relieve some of the pressure. He was impossibly hard now and desperate to fuck the doctor, but he knew that John would need some preparation first; it had been a while since they had been intimate like this.

“Relax, John, I’ll take care of you.” John sunk back into the pillows and he gazed up at Sherlock lovingly. He focused on loosening his muscles for his detective. Flipping the cap off of the tube of lubricant, Sherlock squeezed some out onto his fingers, and pressed the middle and index against John’s rectum, tossing the bottle to the side. 

“I -uh- need you to fuck me, Sherlock.” John hissed from the cool temperature of the lube against him as he bent his knees, bracing his feet against the mattress to spread himself for the taller man, who now had one finger inside of him, up to the second knuckle. 

The finger was fully inside John, and then pulled out before Sherlock added a second, knowing that John could take it. He heard a deep groan when the third was added, but didn’t cease movement of his fingers, stretching the doctor until he knew he was prepared and used to the in-and-out motion before withdrawing.

“Turn over for me, John, on your knees.” Sherlock tapped John’s hips to encourage him to move, and they shared a brief kiss before the doctor situated himself on his knees facing the headboard, bent over and bracing his forearms on the pillow. His head rested on his arm as he pushed his arse against Sherlock, now desperate to get fucked after being close for so long. He could feel the detective’s cock head rubbing the cleft of his arse before being dragged down to his balls and back up, spreading lube all over his opening before he could feel Sherlock’s longer, cut cock press into him.

“Sherlock! Fuck...unngh...” John rocked his hips slightly as Sherlock pushed into him. His motion was stilled as he felt the detective’s hands grab his hips forcefully and slowly push all the way into him, before withdrawing to the tip and pushing in again, looking for the spot that would drive John mad.

“Right -ah- there, fuck. This feels fucking-uh- amazing, Sherlock.” John gasped out as the detective thrusted into him, finding a rhythm that felt good against the doctor’s prostate. From below him, John could hear the whimpers that Sherlock made at every thrust, and could feel Sherlock rubbing his back soothingly as he fucked into John. John felt the tension building inside him, and his leg muscles started to burn with the exertion of his position. Sherlock didn’t relent in his pace, knowing that John could come without his cock being touched at all.

“Mmm...unf...fuck...fuck, gonna come...” John’s groans became more detached as he approached the edge again, before letting out a loud cry of frustration as Sherlock stopped driving into him, falling completely still. The detective rested his head on John’s lower back as they both caught their breath, unsatisfied. John, frustrated and desperate to come, reached his hand down to fist his own cock but felt Sherlock grab his wrist before he could get there. Sherlock gripped the base of his own cock tightly and pulled out, still on the edge himself.

“Sherlock, please...” John thrusted against the air, desperately seeking friction and not finding any, leaking copiously onto the sheets below. Twice the detective had brought him to the edge of orgasm. Sherlock let go of his wrist and nudged him to turn over.

“John...lie on your back again, and don’t think of touching yourself. You know I’ll take care of you.” John relaxed onto his back again, flinching as he felt lube and his own precum sticky on the sheets under him. The detective situated himself between John’s legs and lined himself up, but didn’t push in yet. John pulled him down by the hair as their lips met, a chaste kiss to contrast their intense fucking from the moment before. Once they had both calmed down, Sherlock slowly and hesitantly pushed inside the doctor’s slackened entrance.

“Just fuck me, love. I need you so badly.” John’s legs wrapped around Sherlock’s waste, encouraging him to go deeper as his arms wrapped around the detective’s back, pulling him close and running his hands over his scars, knowing there’s nothing that this man wouldn’t do for him. Their lovemaking was no longer frantic as before, Sherlock rolling his hips gently into John, their faces inches apart as they let the tension regrow slowly. 

Sherlock made sure he was focused on John’s prostate, providing almost constant pressure to it with his shallow thrusts. He watched John’s face, and listened to the continual low moans leaving his mouth as he got closer and closer to his peak. 

John pulled Sherlock tighter to him, and felt his whole body began to clench around the detective’s cock as he came hard, his cries muffled with his hand as Sherlock fucked him through it. His eyes slammed shut as cum streaked across his muscled abdomen with each spasm, and he felt each pulse as he never had before. He was sure that he’d never come so hard in all his life. When his shudders subsided, he collapsed back into the bed, Sherlock pulling out slowly, still rock hard, to avoid overstimulating him. John looked up at him through heavy eyelids, still enjoying the aftershocks of orgasm as Sherlock began to stroke himself over John’s chest.

“Did you want me to...?” John offered, reaching out for Sherlock’s cock before seeing his head shake no.

“Fuck John, fuck...I’m so close...fuck...” Sherlock’s hand was jerking his own cock rapidly, chasing his own release. He could distantly feel John rubbing his arse and murmuring words of praise, and it brought him closer and closer until he let out a strangled cry. His hips jerked, and he came with a violent shake, his hand slowing on his cock as his own cum joined John’s on the doctor’s chest. His hips shook slightly as he rode it out, and when the aftershocks subsided he looked shyly up into John’s eyes, an easy, relaxed smile on his face as he came down from his high.

“Come here, love.” John pulled him down until the detective’s forehead was resting on John’s shoulder, careful to avoid touching the semen between them. The two men lay silently, catching their breath. John quickly became uncomfortable as he felt their cum drying on his chest. He planted one last kiss to Sherlock’s sex-mussed curls before pushing him away and moving to get up. 

As John left to clean himself up, Sherlock reluctantly grabbed his tee shirt off of the floor and used it to wipe off the remaining stickiness from dried lube on his body. He threw the shirt across to their laundry hamper and was pulling back on his pyjama bottoms as John emerged from the bathroom, in his own fresh pair. 

An awkward silence stretched over them as John warily eyed the wetness that still remained on his own side of the bed. He moved around the bed as Sherlock got under his own half of the covers.

“I’m not sleeping in that, Sherlock. Scooch over.” John climbed in on Sherlock’s side of the bed and wrapped himself around the detective, so his bare chest was pressed against the skin of Sherlock’s lean back, both still slightly damp with perspiration. Sherlock reached to intertwine their hands as he sunk back against John, his eyes falling closed as he felt himself drift closer to sleep.

“Love you, John.” Sherlock muttered sleepily, feeling John squeeze him tighter, pressing soft kisses against the detective’s neck and shoulders.

“I love you, too.” John’s breath slowed as he himself felt the pull of sleep of the edges of his unconsciousness. As he drifted off, he thought of how neglected their relationship had been, and how he would take as much time off as he needed to repair it.


End file.
